i find myself
archiving things
straightening objects
seeking homes for
every meaningless
unpinning dreamcatchers
overladen with need
stored away
in dusty plastic bins
in the closet
decluttering again
always a bad sign
the restlessness
nearly the same
as pangs of withdrawal
a sheaf of sketches
half drawn
graphite smudges
in clouds of gray
blank notebooks
filled with the stories
i only mutter
to the ceiling
little skin flakes
accumalting on
the shelves of books
and all i see
are the stains
i cannot erase
yet still i compulsively
move everything
hoping to find
the magical sequence
that slows my heart
and lets me breathe
for a moment more

my sighs carry
the burden of my love
overladen sparrows
falter beneath
their crushing weight
i am the unsettled storm
crashing against
an unwitting world
a force of nature
in unnatural repose


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